


Cling and clatter

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Points of View, Romance, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-15
Updated: 2006-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian *does* move to New York, but in late season two.Years later, Justin moves to NY to become someone in the art world (Lindsay talked him into it) and they meet again. However, the feelings that were never fully forgotten are not returned by the other. Or aren't they?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes:

Brian moves to NY in late season two, after Justin has recovered enough to make it and when they have grown close enough for it to be heartbreaking.

Brian's a huuuge asshole in this prologue, but he does it -why else?- because he thinks it's for their own good.

* * *

BRIANS POV

 

 

_“ _I  just don’t get it, Brian. There are so many job oppurtunities for you out there, and you are still stuck here, in the Pitts. This isn’t where the money is to be made, and you know it as well as I do...Come with me to New York.”__ __

 

__

_“Are you trying to get me to elope with you? Because you know, just because I fucked you, doesn’t mean you’re my type..”_

__

_“Very funny.I’m serious though, There’s a spot opening in our firm. You’d get paid three times of what you get paid over here. Ryder is the past, Brian. Don’t get stuck in it.”_

__

The words keep on repeating themselves in my head, where they are starting to sound like the truth. However, never believe anyone’s word, especially in advertising. And I know words are bullshit, but these ones sound so good. Don’t they? 

But even if I want to, could I do it? I talk and talk of leaving, but I am the first one to say that words and actions are a completely different thing. How many times have I repeated that credo over and over in my head? I look over to the boy lying next to me and I touch his soft blond hair as he shivers in his sleep.  

Could I leave him behind? 

He’s stronger than he thinks he is and he’ll make it without me. I nod my head. Yeah, better leave now before he gets as stuck on me as I am on him. The last thing he needs is to be in a relationship with a man who... is me. He’s too young, too * good * to be tainted by me. Stains you’ll never get out.  

But he’s not the only one I would be leaving behind. What about Michael and Debbie, Vic? For Gods sake, even Ted and Emmett would be missed. Of course they’ll have each other, all of them.  

My reputation’ll be going to shit too.  

Over here, I am everything everybody ever wished for. But who am I in New York? Just another face in the crowd? Being alone, in a big big city? Fucking scares me to death. Not that I’d ever tell anyone that.

But in return..I’ll get my dreams coming true. To be young and a success.  

Fuck you, mommy and daddy. Just look at your faggot son, being more than you’d ever thought he could be. 

Look at me and weep. 

* 

“I’m moving to New York.” 

He huffs a laugh and raises an eyebrow, walks over to the fridge and grabs a beer, holding one out to me. I shake my head and he shrugs, opening one for himself anyway. I walk over to him and take it out of his hands just as he puts it to his lips. 

“I’m serious.” And just to empathise my point, I put the bottle on the counter with a little too much force, leaving a loud _thunk_ to vibrate through the room. His eyes are full of confusion, his mouth opens then closes and he starts fidgeting with his hands. Why does he have to be so adorable? 

“You can’t.” He whispers. And shit, I can feel a panic attack coming on (well, I’m living with him, I’m in tune with that stuff.) which is * not * good. But I try to ignore my sense of protectiveness and leave him to deal with this on his own, the way I know he can. He hates  it when people baby him and besides, he’ll have to deal on his own in the very near future. 

__Don’t panic. I know you can do this. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t.__  

“Why the fuck not?”  

“Because I – You – said you would take care of me..” His voice sounds scared and his breathing becomes rapid, the way it always does. I swallow. 

__You can do this.__  

I laugh out loud and decide to go all asshole on him. Push him ‘till he falls, it really is for the best, I * know * it is.  “Yeah, well, babysitting is over now. So scamper on home or go to one of your friends, I don’t care where you go...But I am leaving...and so should you.” 

And with those words I turn my back on him, walking back into the bedroom, trying not to look back to where I know he is crawling into himself on the floor, tears staining his face, until he finds himself again. 

A few minutes later I can hear the sound of sniffeling and footsteps running from the loft.  __

G _ood boy._


	2. Chapter 1

  
Author's notes:

Just a little chapter on how both men have changed. I know these chapters are pretty small, but it's just to create the image..they'll get bigger in time..*smiles* They'll grow..

* * *

I construct my memories with my present. I am lost, abandoned in the present. I try in vain to rejoin the past: I cannot escape.

-Jean-Paul Satre  

_2 years, 5 months and 11 days later._  

Brians POV 

Confidently, I make my way through the hallway. People are ducking left and right and are just so – scared of me. The way I’d always hoped they’d be. I am someone over here. A big shot. And even though the nightlife doesn’t treat me like it used to, it doesn’t matter now. Fucking has long since lost its original appeal to me. Every night someone new and different – a stranger to your body who doesn’t know his way? Pain management? Fuck that shit, it’s just a good way to release the pressure sometimes. 

When, you may ask, did I have this epiphany – when did I start to see it for what it really was? I’d say it was about 2 years and 4 and a half months ago, when I realised that some things just can’t be replaced. 

I haven’t called him. Not once. 

Some nights though, I’d just open my cellphone and look at his name and number, little digits that are by now burned into my eyes, and I’d wonder if he has forgotten about me yet. If someone else came along who could do it all : say the words and make him feel them, all at once. Who makes him feel so damn good, that memories get erased and it doesn’t matter what got them there, but how they feel, right that minute where everything slowly disappears and the whole world becomes a blur around them. I wonder if anyone has made him feel that way, the way he made me feel every       single       day. 

I hurt him. I hurt him so much, I know I did. But it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? He shouldn’t have wanted me, shouldn’t have needed me, too much emotional baggage. Too many things just lurking around the corner, waiting to be thrown into the battle that was bound to be lost anyway. But sometimes, when I look back upon those happy times, I believe we might have made it, if we’d tried. If I had tried just a little bit harder. 

If I had tried to tell him how I felt. How I still feel. 

I shake my head and fall down into my fancy chair. That’s gone now, isn’t it? It’s too late now. And there’s no turning back.  

I cannot escape. 

 

Justins POV 

Confidently, I make my way through the crowds, that automatically part for me.  I am the king-bee and can almost feel the buzz of all my little workers, every single one eager to pleasure me. Time and time again. And each time I reject them after a quick fuck (if they’re lucky), they get disappointed. Tough luck guys, one fuck only.   

Did more once, and guess what? Came back to bite me in the ass.  

No way I’m going back to _that_ again. I am done crying and hoping and daydreaming about him. That’s all in the past, and even though I cannot escape it, the least I can do is try to forget. Happy memories that haunt my day to day life, what the fuck? Can’t they just, you know, go away and leave me be? I’m tired of seeing those eyes every time I close mine. Tired of reaching across the bed every night and wondering why it feels so cold. Have had quite enough, thank you very much, can we flip channels? 

I need to fix the tv, because no matter how hard I kick it, or bang on it with my fist, it keeps playing reruns of the damn tv – soap called ‘ Days of my life ’a.k.a. 'how things were when I was happy and alive'. 

Fuck – you, Brian. 

Why do I still miss you so fucking much? 

 


	3. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: Here's the next chap for my story, the following'll be up soon..  


* * *

Justin's POV 

"See?" She points towards the artcolumn in one of the country's most important newspapers. _**‘Taylor-made'**_ written above it, in big letters, next to the writers photograph placed in the right corner of the page. A forced smile plays on his lips, and I can almost see the readers shake their heads at the man, wondering what the _schmuck_ wanted to start yapping about this week.

Well, fine folks, avid readers, this weak he'll write about me. Taylor-made. What a laugh. 

But it gets to me, somewhere inside, because even though the mask of indifference never wanders off my face, I will always be an artist, pouring my emotions onto a canvas and praying that people will see me, and accept me for who I am. Who I am when I am Justin Taylor, not the dick or the asshole, not the smile or the smirk. The whole package.

But I just shrug at her and let out a sigh. "So, he likes my stuff...He's just one man, Linds." She looks stupefied.

"Justin, are you fucking kidding me? He's _‘just one man'_ with the most important connections all over the country! He's _‘just one man'_ that people listen to, Justin! Here..." She shuffels the papers under my nose and points to the last paragraph. "Have you even * read * this?"

_Justin Taylor might just be the next big thing. If he takes the right paths to lead him, he'll be blinding the whole continent, with a possibility for expansion. America, world, hold on. And for you art-representatives out there: May the best one snatch him. Let the chase begin..._

If he takes the right paths to lead him. One thing's for sure. These paths don't start or lead to the Pitts. We all know it, all know that if I want to make it, I'll have to leave. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to leave all those haunting memories, and all the expectations behind me, I can't stand to walk the roads where he kissed me, where he held me , * fucked * me. But what about the rest of them - the family I have found when I had nowhere else to go? What about Gus? I have come to love him like my own son, have experienced everything with him, from the moment he was born, to the day where he got his teeth and bit Michael. Ah, how can I forget those sweet memories?

Lindsay pats me on the shoulder sympathetically. "You don't belong here anymore, Justin, and everbody knows it. You deserve more, and when life throws a chance of a lifetime your way, you seize it. No regrets."

_No apologies, no regrets._

I draw in a quick breath when I remember that credo, dished out by him so many times.

Recovering immediately, I smile faintly at Lindsay. "The world's so big, I wouldn't know where to start."

She looks at me, studying my face. "Yes you do."

I heave a sigh. "So, New York, huh?" 

She nods. "New York, New York." 

Brian's POV

I faintly hear somebody calling my name, but chose to ignore it and keep busying myself with the boards on the StepStoneSlider account. It's amazing how in New York, one fuck-up can manage to do the same harm to an account that Pittsburgh needed twins for.

I shake my head and groan. The people of the SSS'll be here tomorrow and unless I can find a big brain in the art departement to fix this shit, I'm fucked.   
"...ian. Brrrr iaaaan."

Go away, little voice. Stop fucking with my head when I need to focus. But it stays and, piercing the clouds in my brain, appears to be coming from Cynthia. Trying not to scare her, I gather my composure and look up with a small smile playing around my mouth.

"Yes, dear?" She brings in a cup of coffee (bless her) and a copy of the Post. I read the Times.

"Cyn, sweetie," I tell her in a low voice that has thunderclouds rolling around in it, "this isn't my usual paper.."

"I know, it's mine. I just thought you might want to read this weeks artcolumn.. Just a suggestion..." Okay, what's she up to? I raise my eyebrows, but she just looks back at me and winks before turning around and leaving the office.   
And so, realising there must be a reason for her ‘suggestion', because let's face it, Cynthia is probably the one who kept me sane all these years, I flip through the paper, looking for the artcolumn. I smile and feel my eyes light up, even if it's just in the smallest bit, as I read its title. _**Taylor-made.**_

About time someone noticed the lads stroke of genius. No pun intended.

Actually, I hope no one noticed his ‘non-art-related' stroke of genius. I hope that one was reserved just for me. But that's just a mad man dreaming.

I lock the door to my office and peddle the chair (it's one of those chairs that you can roll all over the place - so cool) over to the cabinet in the far right corner of the room. The third drawer squeaks a bit when I pull it open (the drawer doesn't roll) and I reach inside, lifting the archivemaps and pulling the portfolio out from under them. It's dust-covered and I lightly wipe it all away, gently opening the locks.

I could stare at this sketch for hours.

It's the one Justin made on a rainy afternoon, when we were just lounging inside, not even bothering to go out and meet some other people. Who did we need anyway?

After fuck-session number three, he had suddenly jumped out of the bed, leaving a bit of the warmth of his body on the duvet. I had instantly moved to it and had basked in it. It had made me feel so safe.

_"Aren't you coming back to bed?"_

_"I can't."_

_"What do you mean, you can't?"_

_"Busy."_

_"With what?"_

_"Shush, Brian, you're ruining my concentration. I won't be long."_

And the next morning it had been lying on the kitchencounter, a note scrawled on the back , signed with hugs and kisses. ‘Yours always, Justin.'

Now my eyes caress every inch of it, seeing the happiness in both of our eyes, as I hold him close to me, kissing the side of his face. His head in the crook of my neck. Hands on each side of my face. His lips turned up and his mouth opened wide in that Sunshine-smile of his.

My fingers trace the outlines of that smile, longing to see it again. Wanting so badly to put it there again. I always read the note, from the time when he loved me, more than anything, and I hesitated.

_Yours always, Justin_

Always? 

Justin's POV

"Mom, I'm..." Jesus, can't get a word in between.. "Mom, it's.. yeah."

"No, of course I'll be back someday. And the holidays and stuff, you'll see me all the time. I promise." Do all mothers worry like this? I let her rant on for a couple of more minutes and then hang up the phone. I drop myself unto the bed and draw my hands over my face.

The packed suitcase looks daringly at me. _You're such a scared little wimp._

Am not. Are _too_.

Shut your... uhm. Locks?

Well, Brian, muse for every breath I take, I'm coming your way.  



	4. Chapter 3

  
Author's notes: Next chappie..Thanks for the reviews, I love them all...Which makes me love you! So keep 'em up! xxxL.  


* * *

Justin's POV

New York holds a secret power over me. This feeling that presses me down unto the gray pavement and makes me look at the sun, and I don't care if I'll see green spots dancing in front of my eyes for hours after this, I have to keep gazing up. I just * have * to like this place, wether I want to or not. 

_I am humble in the city_

_T_ _here seems to be an endless sea off people like us, wakeful dreamers_

_I pass them on the sunlet streets_

New York doesn't care, and New York doesn't matter. But it's these people that live here, wander the streets. I've always marveled at the ignorance of people to each others existence, especially in cities like these, where the lights turn from red to green to yellow, and masses of individuals cross over at the same time. They walk beside each other. Who are they, and have they even thought of eachothers pain and pleasure, loves and heartaches? Most of them do not. 

_But you're real enough to me,_  
but there's a heart   
A heart that lives in New York. 

I can feel his presence everywhere I go, and sometimes am even afraid to turn around and see him standing there, looking smug as ever, a beautiful smile playing around his lips in that Brian-way. His hazeleyes looking me up and down, and reading the memories off my skin. 

It's easy to admit to myself that I am scared. I'm too scared to know how I feel about him now. But I'll find out, soon. 

_I hold you close in the back of my mind_

_feels so good, but damn it makes me hurt_

_I'm too scared to know how I feel about you now_

_La Cienega just smiled - I’ll see you around._

Brian's POV

He's here. I can tell. 

Because when I gaze out the window looking over New York, the landscape doesn't seem as meaningless as it used to. The atmosphere has changed and other than the autumn wind, there is an electricity playing in the air. A smile gets out when I gaze into the sunshine. For the first time in years, it looks like it's really shining. 

It's almost like he's here, standing beside me, and watching the sun with me. Laying his hand on my shoulder, lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers his love to me. Quickly, he presses a kiss to it, and then disappears without even so much as 'later'. But now that he's here, and back to being in my life for real (ghosts and memories don't count), I feel that 'later' will come. 

_All I can do is think of you_

_O I can see you standing there before me,and I can hear you whisper you adore me_

Justin's POV ~ the next day

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Leroy. I appreciate that you are willing to take the time to see me." Polite introduction due to country club manners – check. Thank you mommy, for turning me into the little twit-WASP I am. 

Mrs. Leroy smiles at me and motions for me to sit. "Your reputation has travelled ahead of you, Mr. Taylor," she waves the Post in front of me and I blush, "I’m glad I get to be the one to – how did he put it – snatch you?" She laughs. "You have your portfolio with you, I presume?" 

I nod. "Yes, ma'am." The nervous sizzling in my stomach starts to stir up some trouble, as I pull out my work, to submit to her criticising eyes. _Please let her like me._

After a couple of minutes of her watching and me fidgeting with my hands under the table, she look up and smiles. 

"You know that we have deadlines.." 

"Yes, miss, and I’ll meet them." 

She rolls her lips into her mouth. "Good. Now, call me Annie." She stands up and instead of shaking my hand, pulls me into a motherlike hug. And I feel safe in this big Apple. 

"Okay, Annie. I'm Justin." She claps her hands, then points her finger at my nose. "Let’s get started." 

*   
And then the rain started to pour down from the sky and silly me forget his umbrella. When we were still together, Brian always used to mock my obliviousness to things such as the weather. He'd put my gloves in his jacket, just in case it got cold and took my umbrella with him just as I was rushing out of the loft, off to another adventure in the gray months. He took care of me. 

_flashback_

_I'd been standing outside in the rain for about half an hour when Brian's jeep pulled up in front of me and the door swinged open, revealing my worried boyf- Brian to me. His brows were furrowed together, and he was biting his tongue insecurely. He looked beautiful. "Get in."_

_Happily, I obliged, pressing my lips to his as a toaken of my gratitude.When I pulled back, a sigh escaped his lips and he ran his hand over his face._

_"You could get sick."_

_I nodded in shame. "Yeah."_

_He reached back and pulled out a towel and pressed it gently into my hands. I looked at it in doubt. "What?"_

_I scrunched up my nose. "That's not your cumtowel, is it? For when you’re on the go?"_

_He laughed and exhaled deeply, a kind of tenderness written on his face. "No Sunshine, it's not." But then in a very Brianlike way, he added: "But even if it was, I.." he pretended to look hurt, "thought you liked my cum?"_

_Now it was my turn to laugh. "I do, I do. But not to dry myself with." Silence fell over us as we pulled to a stop in front of a light._

_"Thank you." He looked at me and kissed me passionately, adding a little peck to my swollen lips as a last minute afterthought._

_"Thank me later." He wiggled his eyebrows and I started smiling, thinking of my future thank you – note._

_/flashback_

But now he doesn't take care of me anymore, and I flee into the first shelter I can find. I think I'll just wait until the storm is over to return to my new place. I like it, the apartment I've chosen to spend my time in New York. It's cosy, with a comfortable couch (very important), a good kitchen and a nice bed. I have a whole room for me to paint in, with huge windows to gaze at the New York skyline. 

The sunset was beautiful last night. 

I look around me and find myself in a diner, not like Deb's – because truthfully, what place can compare to the Liberty Diner – but a nice one, cosy and welcoming. The bar is made of dark wood and yellowish pictures adorne the walls. The booths match the decor, blending in perfectly with their red cushons and carved tables. People have etched their names, or little bits of wisdom into them and make them feel wise.   


"Welcome to Gerard's, can I help you?" I look up into the eyes of a girl, about my age, with brownish hair and matching eyes. She looks nice. She looks like a friend. I decide against my asshole-routine and smile at her. _Welcome back, Justin._

"I could use a cup of coffee, and a friend?" 

Her smile grows until I’m sure she gets a cramp. Got to hurt.

 

 

"Just a minute, your order’ll be right up. Sam, I’m taking five!"

 

* * *

Lyrics from : The Weepies - Painting by Chagall, A Heart In New York by Benny Gallagher and Graham Lyle, Ryan Adams - La cienega just smiled and Frank Sinatra - I think of you. Thanks to all the artists for their wonderful words.


	5. Chapter 4

  
Author's notes: So here's the next chapter : Brian and Justin meet again...*the music swells* - what will happen? xxxL  


* * *

Justin's POV ~ 3 weeks and 5 days later

And then there he was : Brian Kinney, the only man who can ever take my breath away. I could feel him from the moment he walked in through those glass doors, his critisizing eyes capturing every corner of the room, every dot on every painting, every freckle on every neck. Until they rested on me.

Me, Justin Taylor, the 'Taylor-made - man' with his own show in the center of New York City, the artist who was pretending to be oblivious to the eyes, the face, the looks and gestures of the man he longed for. I could feel my heartbeat increasing and my breathing stop altogether. I knew he'd come, I knew he'd be here and my heart knew all of this too, but that doesn't stop it from fluttering. It doesn't stop the warmth creeping up my spine and making me blush for no good reason. I hate it when my body betrays me.

I smile politely at the guests I'm talking to and hurry to the other side of the room, my body moving so quickly that one could be convinced it was only a ghost. MaryAnne is talking enthusiastically to Annie, her hands flying in all directions as she tries to explain the unexplainable (or so it seems). I clear my throat and she smiles apologetically at Annie. "I'm needed."

I tear her away and we hide behind one of the panels where my paintings are displayed, as I grip both of her arms with vigor, my eyes wide in deparation. "He's here."

She smiles, but then looking at my face, frowns. "Where is he?" I point over to where Mr. Kinney is standing in front of one of my paintings and she pokes her head around the corner, before letting out a yelp, which of course results in every head in the room turning our way. Every head except one : Brian's. He just keeps staring at the painting, a look of wonder painting his handsome features.

MaryAnne looks just - lost, silently staring in front of her. And let me tell you : 'silent' is not a word that can even be used in the same sentence as 'MaryAnne'. I sigh when I realize that the straight girls for Brian Kinney- club has just reeled in another member. "Justin - he's * gorgeous *!"

I nod. Yeah, he is. I mentally shake myself. I'm over him, remember, subconscious? I kiss MaryAnne's cheek and thank the Fates for finding her in that damn diner. "I gotta go mingle."

But as I turn to leave, she grabs my arm. "Justin, what's the game-plan? We have got to have a game-plan, or...well, basically, we're doomed."

"Okay, okay. The game plan is..." I fall silent for a minute or two, what is the game-plan? "... to just be blase about it, like I can't even remember who he is. Like, he never meant a thing to me. I'll just make him feel the way he made me feel on that last day together." But what if he doesn't even care? Well, the better..right? Right.

I swat my girl's ass before returning to the crowds. Showtime.

 

Brian's POV

This painting. The things and feelings poured into it, I can read them all. Inch by inch, my eyes travel over the occupied canvas, where black and white meet.

At first, they travel together, side by side, contrasting yet complementing eachother, completing eachother. The feeling of wholeness drags me in, and makes me feel so comforted, so safe from all the world.

But black turns away, travels off of the canvas, sharply edging into the unknown. White - slowly edging to where the black left vacancies. But as it reaches out, searches for that wholeness, it turns gray, and sad. It is the blending of two times happiness into sadness. Loneliness.

My eyes found the owner of these (past?) feelings the moment I entered this room, that is full of him. I should have stayed away, probably. Shouldn't I have? Because this trip down Memory Lane is dangerous. It has a sense of forboding all around it. But the minute that flyer hit my desk, I knew that I'd end up here. Because Memory Lane is not yet closed. Our story, and our journey together is not yet completed. The roads keep going on.

Three minutes later I own a Justin Taylor original. The black, grey and white has a red dot underneath it, next to the title of the painting. "Bricks."

I look at him all through the evening, while chatting idly with Cynthia, without whom I would have never known about my Justin's own show. He looks so beautiful, just like I remembered him. He's grown up a bit, though. He possesses this wisdom that is etched into his whole being : the way he walks, talks, ... smiles. His smile is not as unguarded as when I used to put it there. I wonder what made it change.

But I am not naieve. I did. I made him change. And I'll bring him back. Back home, to me.

 

Justins POV

Annie comes up to me and hugs me from behind. "You're a hit!"

I smirk. "We'll see."

"I * see *. All painting are dotted." Dotted?

"Is that even a word?" I laugh and - is it me, or did Brian just square his shoulder at the sound of it? How does that song go again? Oh yeah : It's just my imagination, my imagination.. Would apply, don't you think?

"Of course it is!" She swallows nervously. "So, I saw your muse.."

"Yeah, he - what? How do you..." I stutter.

"Justin, sweetie, I work with artists. I am used to artists. And when an artist looks at someone the way you do when you look at that man, then I know."

I nod. "Have you talked to him?" I huff. "Nah, he wouldn't want anything to do with me. And besides - I'm over him."

She presses her lips to my forhead. "Of course you are."

Fifteen minutes I find her talking to Cynthia. Ah, just great, thanks a lot, Annie. She - of course - waves me over to meet her, and just as I am about to arrive, a fourth person joins the party. You can do this, Justin. Blasé, remember? Like you don't know him at all.

Cynthia smiles politely at me. "Mr. Taylor, how nice to meet you again. Your work is amazing."

Annie looks up as if surprised. "Oh - you'd met Justin before?" Wow, great I-had-no-idea-face, woman!

"Yes, NI-NA." I drawl out, "I had the pleasure of meeting Cynthia before..." I grin at her. Pay-back.

She shoves me and snorts. "Quit it, you fool!" She shakes her head at me and turns to Cynthia, and Brian, who hasn't said a word so far. "The little punk likes to call me Nina when he's trying to piss me off." I turn to her with an innocent face, apalled to say the least. Why does she accuse me of these things?

Cynthia snickers. "I'll bet. Justin, you remember Brian?"

I put on my game-face and reach for his hand. "Mr. Kinney." I'm not surprised to feel the jolt through my hand, but act as if I'm unaffected by it all.

" Justin." He nearly whispers, so tenderly that it almost makes me forget everything but him, but then MaryAnne appears somewhere being Brian, with a large sign that says Game-plan !!! and I can't hold my laughter.

She, of course, sees this, and immediately appears at my side, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Darling," she says with that overly WASP-y voice that she uses to get to me, sweet as honey, but at the same time sharp as a knife. "Quit it!" And then she just hits me - right in the head.

"Aw. That hurt, woman!" I turn to Cynthia. " These women are going to kill me someday."‘These women' smile at each other and give each other high fives. Jesus.

"We will kill you, if you keep making a scene at your own party." MaryAnne says matter-of-factly, crossing her arms simultaneously with Annie.

I chuckle at the sight of my women being butch. "Oh, I'm scared of you, missy! Both of you." I throw my hands up in the air. "But fine- okay, fine." I smile politely at Cynthia and nod to Brian. "It was nice seeing you again." And pointing at MaryAnne and Annie, I add : "Try to stay away from these two...They're a bad influence."

Annie shrieks. "Hey, you corrupted us, and not the other way around." I smile misschievously and disappear to fulfill my duties. Still alive to do so.

 

Brian's POV ~ later that night, at the New York Loft

It was like he didn't even remember me. "Mr. Kinney." And didn't he feel that jolt, that connection between us, the electricity that has always been there? I turn over in the bed, shaking my head as I do so. No, he felt it - He * must * have.

But his eyes. I'd never seen his eyes that way before. They might as well have been closed the entire time we were standing there. The shield put up in front of them was like the Berlin Wall.

At least, that was when we was looking at me. His eyes started to sparkle when he was playfully bantering with ‘his two women'. But when looking at me, everything died in those eyes and all there was left was a deep black pool. A Dubh Linn.

Earlier that evening I'd heard him laugh. Honestly, Justin-like laughing. No guard. No obstacle to muffle the beautiful sound. He was free.

Two years have passed, but seeing him there tonight made it feel like two minutes. I recognized every inch of his body, that had only grown to be more beautiful.  
And those eyes, those Dubh Linns - I'll make them blue again.

* * *

Dubh Linn, the old irish name for Dublin, meant Blackpool. I just had to put that in there, because of my connection to Ireland and of course- Brian being irish. 


	6. Chapter 5

  
Author's notes: Notes and feelings. Notes are in italics, then a - and the signature (either Brian or Justin). xxxL.  


* * *

If you love, bury it deep, when you talk, know that talk is cheap 

(Tom Mcrae- Hidden camera show)

* * *

Justin's POV ~ Three days later 

And once again, it's pouring. But the sky is blue at the same time.Sunshine spreads this warm glow over one side of the city, while the other side is rewarded with rain. Like my head and my heart.  

Seeing him three days ago was like and epiphany. Like I'd been looking through tainted windows these last two years, and then he comes along and the dirt and dust upon my heart disappears. But at the same time, my head is in doubt. Quite stubbornly, it refuses to let down the wall, knowing that if I do, history will repeat itself and I'll be left broken hearted. Again. I won't let that happen. 

And with that thought in mind, I hurry through the rain and practically jump into the gallery. Annie comes over to me and hugs me tightly. "I've seen enough. You, my friend, are a hit." Proudly, she shoves the list of buyers under my nose and smiles brightly.  

My eyes scan over the names and numbers and land on one.  

_"Bricks"_

_B_ _rian Kinney, Kinnetik advertising, New York  25,000 $_  

Fuck.   

Brian's POV 

And four days later the painting arrives at the Kinnetik headquarters. Carefully, I lift it out of its cover and look at the painting of the man who owns my heart, treating it as if I were dealing with his. 

I lift it up to bring it to its rightful place: right in front of my desk, where I can see it all the time. An albeit frail, but real connection to Justin, something I've been craving for a long, long time now.  

It is only then that I notice the note taped on the back. My heart starts to pound in my throat when I recognize his writing. I wonder what he'll say. For a long time, my hands trail the edges of the envelope, fidgeting with the corners and debating on wether to open it. I know I will, but... well, frankly, I'm scared.  

I don't think he knows how scared I am of him, and his words and opinions. How scared I am of him not loving me anymore, when he is all I think about. All I have been thinking about for a long, long time. He is the thought that creeps into my head, a pressure in my brain that never wavers, a presence that always surrounds me. A person that I am not willing to let go. 

_Brian Kinney,_

_You of all people to buy this painting. If you haven't figured out its meaning yet, don't worry, I'm positive you will someday. If you have, congratulations, I knew you could do it. Oh, and one more thing: while you're here – please stay away from me._

_J. Taylor_  

Please stay away from me... What if I can't? 

What if I crave his very being every single second and, knowing that he's here, have to see him every day, every night and every hour?  So I take my pen and write him a note back. I will not back down this time. 

  
Justin's POV 

 _What if I can't?_ _-Brian._  

I turn the note over and over, read it again and again. Four words. Not the three I’ve been wanting all these years, but close to it. He'll fight for me this time.  

Let him fight. I'll gather my troops and prepare for battle.  

Brian's POV 

_Bullshit. -Justin_


	7. Chapter 6

  
Author's notes:

The next chappie. Thank you to all the wonderful people reading...If you want to - I live for reviews...

This chapter has them fighting (I know - I know, it'll get better for them, I promise.) xxxL.

* * *

Welcome to the second reel, glad that you could make it.We thought your fate was sealed, it's not what we expected.(Tom McRae – The Boy with the bubblegun)

* * *

_But you punch above your weight, and you’re stronger than you look._   

 

Justins POV 

Relieved, I bury my throbbing dick is my trick du jour's ass. Annoyed, I wipe the face that's been haunting me out of my mind. I still can't believe he had the nerve to show up at the gallery, on my terrain, and challenge me like that. If he thinks he can still rule my world and make me swoon with every word coming out of that delicious mouth – then he's in for a big surprise. No Mr. Kinney, not me. Not I. 

_Flashback_

_"What the fuck does this mean?!?" He storms into my office (yes, I have an office, ain't that cool) and slams my note down onto my desk._

_I look up as if only mildly disturbed, when he's actually pissing me off to no end. "I’m afraid you’ve lost me." I furrow my brows together in mock-confusion and his face wrinkles in utter annoyance. He has this expression on his face that tells me that I am a complete idiot if I don't know what he's talking about. An expression that used to make me shrink and feel about an inch tall, but that has no effect on me what-so-ever right now._

_"'Bullshit'? 'Bullshit', Justin?" His face turns angry. "I finally –," he pauses as if searching for the word "open up, and you call it bull?"_

_I laugh bitterly. "Opening up – is that opening up in the world according to Brian Kinney? Jesus, Brian! How about I call you a therapist to explain that word to you – or wait, the primary school teacher would do just fine.." I shuffle through the papers and sigh heavily. "Oh, boy, I really thought I had the number here somewhere..."_

_He raises his finger at me. "Don't you dare make fun of this, Justin – you can't talk your way * out * of this..." He sounds a bit desperate and it makes me chuckle. His face reddens with anger and it sobers me up. So I look him blantly in the eye and make my point clear._

_"I know, Brian. Talk is cheap. Promises are cheap. So these words you wrote, they’re just that : cheap. Bullshit."_

_"It’s not!"_

_"So proove it..." I walk over to the door and push it open. "But for now - leave."_

_/flashback_  

He didn't take the note with him and it just lay there, defying me to rip it apart or deal with the truth. That it may not be bullshit. It just may be real.

The truth that I cannot hit to hurt, or cause him pain. That I am his, forever. His to claim at the lost and found-section. 

I wish and fear that he'll come and find me. 

 

Brians POV 

God, he's hot when he plays the indifferent one. All this hidden anger and frustration piled up inside of him and a steady voice. 

At times like that I wonder where the boy is who always wore his emotions on his sleeve. The little twat who seemed to have some form of PMS and just get emotional fits. The one I had to protect from visions that haunted him in his sleep.  

He's stronger than he looks. And I just wish I knew how to knock down those walls. Is that how he felt with me, all these years? That helplessness at being unable to understand the other one? 

"So proove it." He spat it out like venom. "Proove it."

That's what I will do, as soon as I calm down.  

I hate the way he gets under my skin, making my fingers turns to claws, forming my asshole-attitude. I hate the way he turned me into someone that I don't want to be, that afternoon in his office.  

Attachment. Yeah, that's what we have. We're ' _attached'_. I chuckle. The old ball and chain. 

Get used to it, Justin. I'll lay heavy on you. 

Metaphorically - for now.

I turn off my nightlight and grin. You just wait and see..

* * *

please review? *looks really sweet* xxxL.


	8. Chapter 7

  
Author's notes: Well, I wrote another one...Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews. It really means the world to me. xxxL.  


* * *

Justins POV 

Four days later, when I enter my office, there are a CD and a letter lying on my desk. And I immediately know who is responsible. I have to say that I am quite impressed with * his * game-plan, knowing that my own is full of flaws. My resistance is giving way.  

For the last week I have only thought of him. True, my paintings are more heartfelt then ever, but at what cost? You know, I was doing just _fine_ before he mad his reappearence in my life, thank you very much. But in a week, he has turned my whole world upside down. Now he fights for me. Let's see what he's got... 

_Justin,_

_This is only part one of the proof that I'll be giving you. How many other parts will follow? Time will tell. Just, do something for me, okay? Be patient with me. Stick it out, then judge me._

_Instructions : Pop this CD in your player and go to the Kinnetic Headquarters. The nightguard will show you in – then go to the roof and lay down. Press play at 23:00 and listen. Don't say a word, because you're right. Words are cheap. Trust me._

_Please Sunshine – have a little faith in me._

_l_ _ater,_

_Brian_  

For a few minutes, I have absolutely no cheap words to say. I can't tell anything from the CD either (it's a burnt disc), but I know that if I care about him, if I ever loved him – that I have to do as he says and trust him the way I used to, back in the day. 

* * *

22:45 

I skittishly make my way over to the night guard, and he smiles and lets me in. Okay, no problems there. I sigh relieved and then exasperated. The roof. Damn it! This building has 23 fucking floors! And I know what you're thinking – take the Goddamn elevator, but ever since I got stuck in the Bank-tower in a metallic elevator – I've stopped trusting the darn things. 

Groaning, I take a deep breath and start the climb. 

 

~ meanwhile on the roof  

Brians POV 

I check the site one last time. The blanket lying right in the middle of the roof and the one burning candle next to it. No rosepetals, no wine and cheese – dishes. Just a blanket and a light. I hide in the shadows and patiently wait for him to come, the way I know he will. Right?

When 13 minutes later he still hasn't shown up, I start to worry. I blame my cocky self for feeling disappointed. I was so sure of myself and that, my friends, is a recipe for disaster. Don't ever be too sure of something, you're bound to get burnt. But when the clock strikes eleven I press the playbutton on my own discman and hear the familiar words sounds float trough my ears. 

_We'll do it all, everything, on our own_

_We don't need anything or anyone_  

And that is the moment he breaks through the door, his discman already playing, just like mine, his breath catching. Then it dawns on me : the little punk took the stairs. He made it – he was determined to make it here, that’s a good sign, right? I watch him as he makes his way over to the blanket and his eyes soften in the glow of the candle. He crouches down and just lies there, like I asked him to, listening to the song I picked to tell him this week’s message. 

_If I lay here_

_If I just lay here_

_Would you lie with me_

_A_ _nd just forget the world_  

Slowly, I walk over to him and lie beside him, underneath the stars. He looks to the side and smiles at me, closing his eyes in total emotional surrender. It’s his way of saying : “Okay, Brian. Show me.” I reach over and touch his hand with mine, my fingers curling around his and finding their place again. We’ve always fitted, and I want him to feel that again.  

_I don't quite know how to say how I feel_

_Those three words are said too much_

_They're not enough_  

His eyes snap open and he raises his eyebrows at the stars. I knowingly close my and a smile creeps out. The words had their desired effect. Yes, Justin- that’s what I said. Can you hear me now? Can you see through all the past fights, and just listen to what I am saying? Hear me. 

 

Justins POV 

Oh. Wow. 

I’ll tell you, Brian. This is an amazing song you picked. You know, I used to make a habit of listening to songs, and analysing them. Searching for traces of you. It was one of my favorite things to do, but after a while, it became too painful. The songs started to haunt me after you left and I just couldn’t take it anymore. So I burnt all the songs to CDs, and put it in my backpack, where they still hide.   

_Forget what we're told_

_Before we get too old_

_Show me a garden that's bursting into life_  

I know nobody ever believed in us. Your best friend told me the very first time we met that it wouldn’t work out. That you would never feel anything about me. I don’t think he ever told you that, huh? I heard Ted taking bets about how long our happiness would last, it hurt me so much. If family didn’t believe in us, then who would? I started doubting you did – it ripped me apart. 

_Let's waste time_

_Chasing cars_

_Around our heads_

_I need your grace to remind me_

_To find my own_

_All that I am_

_All that I ever was_

_Is here in your perfect eyes_

_They're all I can see_

_I don't know where_

_Confused about how as well_

_I just know that these things_

_Will never change for us at all_  

He gently cups my head and turns my face to look me in the eyes. I can see truth in there. Truth about his feeling. Trust. He trusts me, like he’s only trusted a few people in his life. He knows that I won’t break his heart, that’ll I’ll handle it with care, and that if it would end, I would not tell. I’d keep the secrets he reserved especially for me. 

Closer, closer, closer. Come closer Brian. 

I reach for him and he smiles while placing a little kiss on my lips. I can feel his breath caressing me and then he pulls away. He kisses my forhead and stands up, walking away. 

_I lay here_

_If I just lay here_

_Would you lie with me_

_And just forget the world_  

A white lilly was all that was left of him. 

* * *

The song is "Chasing cars" by Snowpatrol.

Please review? *throws in the Bambi-eyes* xxxL.


	9. Chapter 8

  
Author's notes: here's the next chapter...I really hope you like it. It sort of deals with the reactions after Brians first step. Also, Brian finds out a bit more about the past. Please tell me what you think? xxxL.  


* * *

_If you were my head,_

_you’d know where it hurts_

_you’d clean up the dirt_

_If you were my head,_

_I would be heard.               K’s choice – My head_   

Justins POV 

“So he just took OFF?” Her face shows clear surprise and I can’t really blame her. If I hadn’t been there, I’d have to be pretty shocked too. Although it does kind of make sense, because.. 

“What if he’d stayed? We’d have to start talking about stuff and that would have like – ruined the moment completely. Nah, I’m glad he left. It was absolutely perfect.” I stare at the wooden bar with a glassy look in my eyes. It was, wasn’t it? Perfect. 

I have to admit that I’ve listened to the song every night before I went to sleep ever since it happened, three days ago. The song says so much, explains so much to me, and the things Brian did that night – it was... 

She laughs very loudly, snapping me out of my Brian-induced stupor. I smile. 

She winks at me and nudges my shoulder. “I’d say you have it pretty bad, my man!” Next to her, MaryAnne is trying to suck the last remaining drops out of her plastic cup, peering through the straw to see if they’re anything left. I snap my fingers at her. 

“Hey, girly girl! Could you like – focus on me for a minute?”  

“Just a second, brat.” After a few more seconds of peeping through the tiny hole – ieuw, did that just sound as gross as I think it did? – she puts the cup down unto the table and spraids her hands in defeat.  “I’m * all * yours...Have your wicked way with me..” 

“Oh, so you wouldn’t mind if I stripped off  your clothes for Tom to see?” She looks around skittishly and surely, there he is. Tom Garcy, the new bartender that makes my girl swoon. 

“You ASS! Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” I smirk. Woops? She hits me up the head then smiles. 

Annie looks at me and sighs. “Sweetie,really, what I think you should do is let me know how much you appreciated this thing he did, otherwise he just may give up...” 

“I thought the plan was to let him fight for me?” MaryAnne nods her head furiously and holds out her fist for me to bump mine against. Such a macho-thing to do, but it’s just us, you know. Buds over studs. Not that she could actually make a play for my guy, since he is – other than completely smitten with me – well, * gay * . But that’s soo not the point. The point is that we’re friends. Best friends. 

The Joey and Dawson, Haley and Lucas  - kind. The Brian and Michael-kind without all the drama and unrequited love. Justin and MaryAnne. 

Annie rolls her eyes at our antics. “Fine. Just remember : songs tell stories. Maybe it’s time he heard yours.”  

 

Brians POV 

The feeling of his lips against mine, in that soft, tender kiss, keeps me going for days. And in those days, I nearly double over by thinking too hard about the next step of my plan. It’s blank, my mind, but loaded at the same time. There is so much I want to tell him, but I can’t find the words to explain all the things for him.  

Not that I need words, because (that was sort of the plan) I am planning on showing him, and then, when he finally understand, I’ll say those words that have been haunting me for some time now.

_I love you, Justin....love..love you...lo..you...I love..._  

Argh.For fuck’s sake, I’m an Ad-man. I should be able to shake words and plans out of my sleeves. But it’s different when it’s about you, isn’t it, Brian? It’s different when it matters. 

I stare at the painting I bought and wince at the pain shown in it. The pain I caused. But I leave it hanging there, to remind myself of how badly I messed up last time. To warn myself that I can’t fuck it up again. 

The white turning into grey...He turned into me, didn’t he? 

I still check up on the Liberty Gang every once in a while. I call Michael and see Gus. I allow Deb to hug me during the holidays.  But Michael keeps holding on to the ‘life would have been so much better without Justin’-notion and never speaks of him. Lindsay tried to, at first, but when she sensed my (supposed) indifference she shut up about him. I never once noticed the worry in her eyes whenever she looked at me, her mouth opening to see something, but thinking better of it and being silent. And Deb, who knew me best of all, she saw how much I missed him. She saw that I didn’t want to talk about the obvious mistake I made, but offered me a hug whenever my eyes clouded over when reminiscing about the past. 

I think I talked to Emmett twice. But seeing as he always used to be the Justin-source when we were together, I don’t hesitate to contact him. I pick up the phone and dial the number for Torso, waiting for the ‘queerest of the queer’ to answer. 

“Hey there, sugar, how can I help _you_?”  

“Emmett.” 

“Wait – Brian?” I hear faint shuffling and a muffled ‘just a second, I’ll be right with you’. “Not that I am not very excited to get a call from the living legend himself, but...why are you calling me?” 

My voice sounds low and tired when I answer him (I forgot how much energy this man possessed). “Justin.” 

“Ah. So you met, huh?” I huff. “Yeah, we met. Although I’m not sure if it was Justin I met. It was like this ‘pod’-Sunshine. It was like...” Why am I telling Emmett?  

Softly, he asks. “Like?” 

“Like he didn’t even remember me.” I draw my hand over my face and heave a big sigh. “What happened, Em? After I...left. Why did he..?” 

“Oh, Sweetie, I don’t know. The first few weeks we hardly saw him, he quit his job at the diner and rarely left the loft. So we tried to check up on him, but then he changed the locks and the alarmcode, and really, he was just...gone.” I close my eyes. I knew that would happen, didn’t I? Didn’t I know that Justin needed me so badly that he would stop living ‘for real’?  “ But one night, he resurfaced. Not as Justin, ... as you, Brian. He became the new you, and it hurt me so much to see that beautiful boy become..” 

He chokes back a sob as I squeeze my eyelids closer, closer, closer to hide the bitter taste of knowing that I am the reason, that I am the cause and the result. 

 “I...I think it’s up to him to tell you the rest, Brian. I really can’t s-say anything more. I’m sorry.” The line goes dead and all that’s left in the dialtone, resonating through my mind. 

_You came to me anew,_

_or was it me who came to you_

_Shadowman._          K’s choice – Shadowman  

 

Justins POV 

_Maybe it’s time he heard yours._  

I clutch the phone between my head and shoulder (why? I’m painting my nails...duh!) “So what do you think? You think Annie’s right?” I hear the faint humming of a tune to some Tvshow and roll my eyes. Apparently MarryAnne * is * painting her nails. “MaryAnne!” 

“Wha ? Yeah, totally.” 

“You really think we should have a threesome?” 

She huffs. “Funny, you asshole. I can’t help it if sometimes, I’m not all that interested in this weeks Taylor-drama...”  

I laugh appalled. “Shut up, you twat...I _neeeeed_ your help. Besides, you said I had to ‘act all nonchalant’ and that you were gonna hold me back if I got too emotional. So what about that promise, my bestest buddy?”  

I get a giggle from her. “Hey lover, can you come over?And bring the music that describes your feelings best. We’re gonna pick ourselves a song.” 

“You know I love you, right?” I batter my eyelashes at the phone. 

“Mwah!” 

*  

“Blow me.” She reaches her toes up to my mouth, with her eyebrows wrinkled together – acting all serious about this. 

“Honey, you know those aren’t miniature dicks, right?” I ask her with a duh-expression on my face. She swaps me with her pillow and pushes up her nose in disgust. 

“Iieuw, that’s just gross. You have to blow for a bit, so the polish dries quicker.” I groan, but start blowing. The things I do for this girl! 

“So, the finalists are : _‘My head’_ , _‘Tired’_ and _‘Rain’_ , right?” I nod. “Right. So, I’d go with ‘Rain’ if I were you. ‘Why?’ you may ask? Because it’s fucking beautiful and it really says ‘Look Brian, you really hurt me, so you better fix it.’ And then he will. ” she concludes. 

Okay. To do : Burn CD and wait for Rain.  

She focuses on her nails again (apparently, one layer of polish won’t do the trick) before looking up with a small smile.  “So – Tom’s smoking hot, right?” 

* * *

The final songs are : “My Head” and “tired” by K’s choice and “Rain” by Patty Griffin. I’ve discovered this song a few days ago, in another Queer as folk fic, and have been listening to it a lot. It’s the song I’ve decided to go with. Please, please, please, review? It keeps me going!  XxxL.


	10. Chapter 9

  
Author's notes: Here comes another one. Brian takes another step. Please review. xxL.  


* * *

Justin’s POV  

Three days later and once again, we find ourselves at our regular booth in the back of the diner. Annie’s looking at me expectantly for some reason, while MaryAnne’s eyes search the place for her hottie, slurping a soda once again. 

“So?” Annie starts with huge eyes, dying to know the outcome of something.  

“So – what?” I throw my hands up in total obliviousness. What exactly is she looking for? 

“You know damn well ‘what’. What did he think of the song?” Ah. The song. Yes, see, the point is : I chickened out. I burned the CD and dragged it along with me these three days, the disc burning a hole in my bag. I knew it was there everywhere I went, I could feel this humongous weight pulling me down. I still do – since it’s still in the same place I left it.  

I sigh. “He didn’t.” Taking the disc out of my bag, I slide it over the table towards her, and I see her eyes go large. “I freaked out.” 

MaryAnne snaps her head around at those words, and stops slurping, if only for a minute. “Aaah – Jus!” She raises her eyebrows in desperation, and I can’t blame her, you know. I should have given him the goddamn song. But instead, I was weak. I failed. 

“I know.” I rest my head on top of my hands. “I know. I really do. I just – I  * couldn’t *” My eyes start to water at my own bloody incapability to tell the man I love how I felt when he left me. How much he hurt me back then and how much it changed my life, and who I am. 

I smile sadly. “But hey, it’s not like he has done a bloody thing since the Chasing Cars-incident, right?” The both look at me sympathetically and squeeze my shoulder. 

I sigh. “Right.” 

 

Brian’s POV 

So, the old Sunshine would’ve come running back to me now. But apparently, and as I had suspected, the new Sunshine doesn’t. And I realise that now is the time for talking. Not yet groveling, but small talk or something like that. I’m not good at it. I always say what I have to say, and the rest of it doesn’t interest me. I’m good at speeches and pitches,...when the other one just sits and listens.   

But I can’t do that now, can I?  

Hey – I wonder if Sunshine has an answering machine? 

* 

_Hey, you’ve reached Justin Taylor. You know what to do._  

BEEP 

 

Justin’s POV 

When I get home from my ‘date’ with my two women, I can see the light on the answering machine blinking. And even though I know it won’t be him, I can’t stop my stomach from doing a flipflop. I breathe in and breathe out heavily, and close my eyes, my finger lingering an inch away from the play-button. I crack open one eye and gather the nerve to push down. 

_“_ _Hey...Sunshine. Er-it’s me. You know...Brian.”_ He breathes in and out heavily, similar to what I was doing only a moment ago. And that strikes me hard. Harder than even hearing his voice in the first place. _“Right. So, I know I am fucking brilliant at pitching ideas to my clients, and I thought that I should pitch one to you. The boards are standing on the couch – Yes, * your * couch, right over there. Oh, by the way, you should really clean your couch, you messy brat...”_  

And sure enough, there they are. 4 black foam boards, sixty by twenty, waiting to be turned around. The question on how they got there in the first place doesn’t even enter my mind as I hesitantly walk over to them. 

_“That’s it, Justin. Just walk over to them and turn them over. I’m not going anywhere.”_ Duh, Brian. You’re branded into the tape – that I’m keeping btw.

I turn over the boards and gasp at what I see. The first one has a enlarged picture of the two of us on it, but one I’d never seen before. You can only just see the smiles on our face as the spotlight of the prom shines between our faces, turning them into two shadows.  

_“I got that first picture from one of the girls you went to highschool with. She tracked me down when I first moved here and she simply said : ‘I thought you might want to have this. You guys look so amazing together.’ ”_ I can hear a quick intake of breath, a signal that Brian is having a hard time saying what he wants to. _“And we do, don’t we? We were always great together. I just – didn’t have the big hairy kahona’s to say it. I didn’t have the big hairy kahona’s to say many things I wanted to. Things I still want to say to you, but I want to say them when I see you. When you’re ready to hear them. Er  - but anyway, moving onto the next board.”_  

I look over to the next board and see a picture of Gus and me. I start to tear up, just looking at him. Oh, how I miss him. I watched him grow up, and every day it amazed me at how he had grown. He holds a special place in my heart, not only because he is Brian’s son, but because in many ways, he marks the beginning of our relationship. I was there the night he was born. Brian took a ... a trick, because I realise now that at the time, that’s what I was...to see his son. To share that special moment with a mere trick. And then when I met Mel and Linds on Liberty Ave. and offered them to babysit, I got another chance at seeing him again. At really * seeing * him.Not the drugged out on E, or horny Brian, but the snarky man whose antics made me fall in love with him even more.  

_“He misses you, Justin. I still talk to him on the phone, you know. I always did. And he was always talking about how his bubby came to play with him, and how his bubby took him to the park, or picked him up from school. And when you moved to New York, I heard the sadness in his voice when he told me his bubby had gone away, just like his daddy. He said : ‘Daddy, you’re happy, ‘cause bubby’s coming... But Daddy, Gus is sad now’.. Justin, you have to know how much my son adores you. You’re his other daddy, you know? That’s * our * boy over there. Many times, you were there when I should have been. And I am so glad you were.”_  

A tear rolls down my cheek. I know Brian always thought of himself as a bad father, because Jack was an ass. But even though I told him things like that aren’t genetic, he never got over the feeling of being not good enough for Gus : our son.  

The next board shows a photo of the gang at Pride. Deb and Em being flamboyant as always, Ted being dorky and Michael and Ben huddled together. And then in the middle of the picture, Brian and me, with him pressing a kiss to the side of my face, his eyes shining with the Kinney “I’m gonna do something I’m not supposed to”-look in them. We all look happy..so happy. 

_“ I talked to Emmett the other day, and he was really broken up about you leaving town. Ted, still my accountant, misses your good looks and witty sense of humor and Deb – well, Deb silences when your name is mentioned. It takes a really sad Deb to shut up like that, Justin. I heard from Emmett that Ben still talks about how smart you were and Vic misses his ‘son’ very much. Michael....Well, Justin, you know Michael. But I think that deep down, he misses his little, annoying baby brother. Somewhere very very deep down.”_ He laughs with that deep low sound that always sends shivers down my spine. He inhales. _“ And then the last board. Justin, I have that sketch. I remember when you did that sketch and I often look at it. I know you were happy back then, Justin. I want to make you smile like that again. I don’t want us to be like we were the night of your opening, with you not caring anymore. Just give me a chance, Justin. Please.”_  

END OF MESSAGES. 

_I can feel my resolve giving way._  

I just sit there. For minutes or hours, until I finally decide that I need a drink. 

Half an hour later, I sit in the back booth, my finger trailing the edges of my glass of Beam for a moment, before moving on to the inscriptions in the old wood of the table. Meaningless messages or rhymes pass the tip of my indexfinger, before it stops trailing and lands on one that tells me exactly what I need to hear. 

_Love is life. And if you miss love, you miss life. – L. Buscaglia_  

I quickly pull out my cellphone before I chicken out again and dial Brian’s number.  

“Okay.” I whisper. “Okay.” 


	11. Chapter 10

  
Author's notes: So here it is...Another chapter, dealing with the actions and reactions after the big Okay. Please tell me what you think? xxxL.  


* * *

Justins POV

Oh boy. Sh – should I have done that? 

Yes. Yes. I know it’s good. I know it’s right.

Right?

Ever since he came back into my life (seemingly unwanted), I’ve felt different. Better. Happy, even. And let’s face it, it had been a long time since I’d felt truly joyous. But then – then he came again.

_Oh love, oh love,_ __

oh, won’t you come again,

__

Take me in your arms, and hold me,

__

Make me feel alive again.

__

\- Susie Suh, Won’t you come again

__

But it isn’t over. It isn’t all good, now. I won’t go back to the way things were, I * can’t * do it. He broke not only my heart, but the whole of me the last time. I had to pick myself up and rebuild everything that was me. I became some things me, some things him, and some things I didn’t want to be. I miss the person I used to be. Maybe Brian’ll save me.

_And after all, you’re my wonderwall._

He said that he wanted to make me smile like that again. I want that too, Brian. More than you can imagine.

 

Brians POV

I wipe my mouth from the delicious Mac ‘n Cheese I ate and walk over to where somebody’s knock-knock-knock on my fucking door. I slide it open (I got myself another loft with a slide-door-thingy, what can I say – I’m nostalgic) and look straight in the eyes of Justins girlfriends. Both of them. Oh, Nuggets.

The younger one (close to Justin’s age) opens her mouth and states bluntly : "Can we come in? Yes? Oh, thank you!" She puts her hand on my chest and pushes me inside (of my own appartement, mind you!). 

The older one just shakes her head at her friends antics. She smiles at the surprised look on my face and pushes (not me, for a change) her hand towards me. I gratefully shake it. "I’m Brian."

She grins. "You don’t say?! I’m Annie, Justins kinda-sorta-pseudo-mom....I’m the woman who will seriously hurt you if you dare mess this up."

Yeah. Wow. She’s serious. Her look is a promise of some serious ass-kicking. I’m a bit – well, scared. Not only of the ass-kicking, but for giving her a reason to. I am so scared of fucking things up with Justin again, because I know that this is the last chance I am gonna get. I wonder if his kinda-sorta-pseudo-mom knows. I think she does, because her expression softens a little, as she points towards her sidekick. 

"And THAT is MaryAnne."

The girl is looking all around her and suddenly just stops and stares at the pictureframe that shows me and Justin looking ... well, looking just happy. No complications or anything. It was on a random day of our life together, that probably would have gone by unnoticed were it not for an evidence of it on camera.

She turns around and her lips curve into a doubting smile. "When did you put this picture here?" How long have I been thinking about him? I haven’t been able to get the little twat out of my mind. He got under my skin that first night. Didn’t leave.

"It’s been there ever since I moved here....Two years ago." 

The ladies look at eachother, then at me. 

"What?"

"Nothing," MaryAnne tells me with a twinkle in her eye. " We just saw why our little buddy is so nuts about you...."  


MaryAnne’s POV

He rolls his lips into his mouth and turns to look out the window. And, gee...Dare I tell him how cute it is? Nah, Justin told me he * hates * stuff like that. Might just make it fun, though.

"You’re cute."

"You’re _annoying_."

I giggle and mutter ‘so predictable’ under my breath, earning me a shove from Annie, who takes over, like a nanny tearing apart two fighting toddlers. I kind of feel like Brian is my big, annoying brother. Who I’ve just met. Right.

"Look, Brian. We like you, we do. But we can, and we will, fight like hell if you do anything bad to Justin."

I nod my head in agreement. I’ll kick his ass if he dares to try anything. His eyes flash vulnerability for a moment, and he sighs defeatedly.

"I know. And believe me, the last thing I want to do is fuck things up again. But I’m just really sc..worried that I’ll say the wrong thing, or go too fast, or too slow. I don’t want to lose him again, girls. If I hurt him again, I’ll * let * you kick my ass."

My heart just breaks seeing him so broken. Sure, he has this whole ‘I am a rock you can depend on’ thing going on on the outside, but it’s like someone once said ‘It’s not because I rock that I’m made out of stone’. He is just so scared to lose the love of his life all over again. The Yin to his Yang, the Moon to his Sun, his soulmate, the reason he is breathing... Ah, I am getting a kick out of all this indirect romance.

I practically swoon in front of him (seriously, I’m so not balanced) and I find myself...yes! In his arms. The cavalier man caught me in my fall. Uh – nice arms, so strong, and protective, and muscled, and...

Annie takes me out of his arms (me wanna STAY) and mouths ‘get – a - grip’ to me. Bohoo, she’s such a partypooper. I wrinkle my nose at her and stick out my tongue, before turning to the hopelessly in love man, with his nice bod and bum. " Brian, no worries...We’re here! * Not * Queer. But big fans, and our sole purpose these days will be making sure _you_ ," I poke his tummy "don’t mess up. I mean, seriously, we are the whole Justinbase ever since he moved here. And boy, let me tell you – you have made quite the impression."

My partner in crime nods. "Impression."

"Yeah, so as I was saying. You totally took him by surprise. I mean, he never thought you’d come after him the way you did. Meet – sure, talk – opinion. You trying to win him back – not in the gameplan, my friend."

The kinda-sorta-pseudomom nods. "Nu-uh."

Brians face clears a bit. "So – you’ll help me?"

"You got that right, pardner."

Annie laughs. "That’s with a ‘t’, honey." 

"Uhm, hello-ho. You ain’t never seen ‘Fievel goes West’?"

Brian smirks. "Isn’t that like a cartoon?"

...

"So?"

And just then my cell rings, playing ‘4ever’. I grin. "I’m sorry, Brian, it’s you’re soon-to-be-boyfriend-again on the phone. Mind if I get that?" I wink at him and snap open the phone. 

"What’s up, pup?"

_"Hey. Nothing much. What are you up to?"_

"Ah, you know. Hanging out with the love of your life."

Brian does the choking-sign. Yeah, yeah, take it easy, tuts.

_"Brian?"_

I laugh. "No. Annie."

_"Right, right. Sorry – my imagination ran away with me again. I mean, how could it be."_

"You know what I always say : there is a fine line between obsession and creativity. You’re bordering."

_"I am so hitting you next time I see you, you twat."_

"Ri – ight. How does half an hour, our spot, sound to you?"

_"I’ll be there."_

"Ciao."

I turn to find Brian looking at me expectantly. "You’re meeting him."

I roll my eyes. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Right. What are you going to say?" His eyes widen at the idea of me saying the wrong things to him, like ‘hey, I really was with Brian, he wants you back, so yeah, me and the woman are going to help him.’

"No worries, Brian. I’ll subtly imply that he should trust you. Trust me."

He nods convinced. And grateful. Yeah, you’re going to owe me big time. "So where is this spot of yours."

And that’s when Annie speaks up again. "Don’t go there. They won’t even tell me."

I think the grin just reached my ears.

 

Justins POV

So I wait on the bench at the rivercourt, trying to get MaryAnne here quicker by just closing my eyes and wishing for her really badly. I don’t know what I would have done without her. You know, we discovered this spot one night, when we were out walking. It was the night of my opening, and I was just – topsyturvy from seeing Brian again. We decided I needed some air, so we went to get some. I imagine that in 40 years, I’ll still be sitting here with her, telling her grandchildren about that night. It was one to remember. I can almost hear my croaky old voice. "Well, children, it was a cold, dark night. You could just see the big bear and the pale moon, but that was it. Me and your Nana went out..."

A voice continues. " and we got lost, not seeing where we went. See, your Uncle Justin had just seen the love of his pathetic little life again, after two whole years of seperation..."

I smile. She always does that, finishing my thought when I don’t even voice them. I turn my voice into a little child’s and ask her. " So what happened, Nana, how did the story end?"

"Well, children, your Uncle Justin was stubborn for a while, but your Uncle Brian kept trying and won his heart again, after giving up his pride. He’d given it up a long time ago, but your Uncle Justin wasn’t there to see it. But he was then. And they lived happily ever after."

My smile broadens as I bump fists with her. "You think?"

She nods. "I know."

A giggle escape. "Uncle Brian, huh?"

Her face so serious, she answers : "Yes, but he likes Uncle Bri better. It sounds cooler." 

We both rolls our eyes at the same time.

"Yeah."

* * *

Okay - so, the verdict???* Looks really sweet. * xxxL.


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